


Nap, Inturrupted

by Fayola



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, implied sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayola/pseuds/Fayola
Summary: Jazz just wanted to rest and relax after a mission. Was that really so much to ask?





	Nap, Inturrupted

**Author's Note:**

> I've been lurking on a PJ discord for months, and it has been rekindling my love for my O.G. OTP. I found this finished thingy I never posted in some WIP folder. Here's to you, discord peeps!

     After spending nearly six grueling decacycles behind enemy lines, battle protocols constantly online and at high alert, slipping from bolthole to uncomfortable bolthole with no one but Mirage and the sporadic Decepticon patrol to keep him company, to say he was glad to be home was a bit of an understatement. The relief of being able to dial down his sensors and collapse in the comfort of Autobot headquarters, safe and secure in the heart of Iacon, was nothing short of euphoric. He had no other thoughts on his processor than to reacquaint himself with the finer aspects of civilization for the next several orns, until Prime called for an official debriefing.

     So he was, needless to say, a touch peeved when he was ripped out of deep recharge by the chime at the door.

     With no small amount of willpower and a hearty groan, Jazz peeled himself away from the warmth of his berth, shucking aside metalmesh cushions. He cursed as his pedes hit the floor, cursing again as they caught in a tangle of thermal blankets and nearly sent him sprawling.

     “Primus, I’m _coming_ ,” he snarled at the chime sounding again. He stumbled out of the berthroom, rubbing at static-filled optics. Frag, where was his visor?

      Leaning against the frame of the door to his quarters, he slapped the controls open with a peevish, “What?”

      Ironhide reared back, looking startled.

      “Jazz?” he queried, optic ridges creasing.

      “ _Yeah?_ ” Jazz growled, gritting his dentae in an effort to stifle a yawn.

      “Uh.” The red mech’s optics flicked up and down the hall. “What’re you… doin’?”

      “I _was_ recharging.” He scrubbed at his optics again, the bright lights battering at sensors still unadjusted from being brought online so abruptly.

      An uncertain rumble came from Ironhide’s engine. “…Here?”

      Jazz felt another growl bubbling up. “Yes, _here_ , _Primus,_ where –“

      Stricken, Jazz cut himself off with a grinding of gears. Forcing his optics to reboot, he took a step back to take in his surroundings, sense of horror growing as he realized the austere, tidy quarters _were not actually his_ but rather those of a mech who _supremely valued his privacy, thank you very much_.

      “Erm.” He looked back to Ironhide, meeting his gaze for a silent klik before doing the only thing he could think of: he reached over to the controls and shut the door in the mech’s befuddled faceplates.

      He whirled around, heading for the safety of the berthroom once more, nearly slamming into Prowl at the threshold.

      “Jazz?” he mumbled, voice still thick from recharge.

      “He-eeyy, _amica_ ,” Jazz greeted. He feared his attempt at a charming smile came off as a pained wince. “Sooo… good morning.”

     “Good morning.” The tactician’s tone was suspicious and expression flat. 

     It definitely was a wince this time.

      “Um…” He made to ease past his friend so that he might creep back into the dim safety of the berthroom. “I think Ironhide might’ve been tryin’ t’ comm ya this morning.”

      An arm slipped about Jazz’s waist, pulling him flush against his frame and preventing his escape. Prowl demanded mildly, “And _why_ do you think that?”

      Jazz cringed in the embrace as the door chime sounded once again.

      “Er… cuz that may or may not be him outside?”

      Doorwings flared as Prowl put two and two together. Heaving a gusty sigh, he released Jazz in favor of rubbing his forehelm, as if staving off a familiar ache. Jazz mustered up as much charm as he could, grinning at his berthmate.

      “Would it make ya feel better if I said it’s cuz you blew my circuits so good last night I forgot where I was?”


End file.
